Flower Shops and Corner Cafes
by SimplyKnownAsEllie
Summary: Gilbert is rejected by the girl of his dreams, for his enemy. Gilbert has enough money and is shipped to Spain, the country of passion, to work at his friend Mathieu's and his dad Francis's flower shop. At first, it seams boring, just a summer job. But everyone is surprised when he offers to stay, year round. But why? Maybe Tony, perhaps?
1. Chapter 1

"Hola,estaré allí en un minuto!" Called a cheery voice. It matched the way the sun was shining and the flowers that were blooming. The sky was a bright blue and the white clouds looked like cotton balls that spilled all over a bathroom floor. The small cafe was painted a creamy white and the windows were latched open, letting in the sounds and smells from the outside in. A glass counter showed several cakes and croissants and types of freshly baked breads. Black boards covered in colorful chalk displayed several coffee and smoothie and tea drinks. Black metal wire tables and matching chairs were sprawled outside with flowers in the middle and an umbrella to protect guest from the beaming sunlight. Inside were glass top coffee tables and an assortment of light tan chairs and blankets and pillows. It looked like a nice typical cafe.

But, Gilbert wasn't interested in any of that. Not the paintings that covered the wall, or the smell wafting from the bread. Not the way the sun was shining brightly or the mood in the air, his mind was too occupied on one topic. Elizaveta. Elizaveta, Roderich, and Ludwig mainly, and also his friend Mathieu and his weird dad, Francis. They seemed nice enough people. Not the awesomest but good enough for right now. Why did he even get in this mess? He saw it coming, he knew he'd never compare to Roderich, but, damn. He never knew the pain would be this much.

"¿Hola,qué puedo hacer por ti?" Asked the man from earlier. He had brown hair and green eyes, and a tan, like most of the other people in the city. Gill never felt so out of place in his life. At home, he looked at least somewhat closer to everyone. But here, everyone's colouring was different, the exact opposite. He sighs, not having thought to learn spanish. Not only did he feel out of place, he felt like an idiot now.

"¿Hablas Inglés?" He ask, after pausing several seconds, making sure he made the sounds come out right. The language felt strange to his mouth. "Or even German, because that would be awesome, right now…" He adds silently, trailing off. The man's eyes grow huge for a second, and frowns, staring, then smiles again.

"You're Gilbert, Mathieu's friend, right? From Berlin!" He smiles. Gill blushes slightly. He thought he told Mathieu to not tell anyone or to make a big deal out of the move. He just shakes his head.

"Ja, that would be me." He hated embarrassment, or making himself stand out more. His hair and red eyes and pale skin already did that perfectly. He looked like a vampire or monster that walked out of an american horror movie. Maybe that;s why Elizaveta rejected him. Who'd ever want to date a monster like thing anyways. The man smiles, again.

"My name is Antonio, just call me Toni. You work at the flower shop, on the other side of the street, right?" He asks. It was true, all he had to do was walk up the sidewalk and cross the street to get to this place. He didn't know if this would be convenient yet or not, being so close to this man.

"Toni! You tomato bastard, get over here!" A yell called out from the back. Toni turns and looks back at Gill.

"That's Romano, or Lovi, but, eh, he bites, rather hard, so be careful calling him that. Just a second." He turns around and disappeared, and the only audible thing is some yelling back and forth. The man just stands there awkwardly, turning around to leave when he sees Mathieu walk in, holding a small box of stuff. His long, wavy, blond hair fell a bit into his violet purplish eyes, not being able to fix his hair due to the box. He gives it to Gilbert and he takes the box, looking into it. It was some of his stuff.

"We didn't know what to do with this eh, so I walked over here to give it to you." He nods to the box and turns to face the signs, pushing up the thin frames of his glasses. Gill sighs, looking up at the sun that creeped in from the windows and open doors.

"It's so bright here." He almost whispers, a side comment to himself.

"Y-you'll get used to it, hopefully! It is summer, so it's not all that surprising, it being all warm and everything I mean." He squeaks out. "We should go back to the shop, papa might need help..." He trails off, looking over his shoulders toward the flower shop. Gilbert nods, biting the inside of his check.

"B-bey Tony, w-we're leaving!" Gil shouts back, tripping over his words feeling awkward. He didn't wanted to just leave, that'd be unawesome, but it would also be unawesome leaving Francis to do all the work, and on his first day too. He didn't want to leave a bad impression on his first day already. Although the french man was very understanding and nice and easy to get along with, he was still careful, trying to impress him. He didn't know why, it wasn't like him, acting like this. Maybe it had to do with Roderich. He steps outside, taking a large breath.

"Just hang in there Gill, you're going to do fine."


	2. Chapter 2

The gentle sound of rain was heard coming out from the thin windows. Gil sat up yawning, stretching. The sun was barely shining and the window was covered with raindrops. He looked around the small room. They had no choice but to put him up in the attic. Francis and Mathieu didn't have enough room at their small, tiny house, and Gil didn't want a house of his own for sure, he didn't want to deal with all the paperwork and getting use to Spanish laws fist. Plus, he didn't even have enough money. But he didn't mind, he found the attic nice and cozy in some sort of way.  
His bed was just a mattress with comforters and blankets and a quilt on top with a pillow, that was pushed into the corner. There was a window right by it and a bookshelves made up the 'walls'. The floor was more like a loft. They somehow managed to get a whitish, creme colour couch in, which was on the other side of the room, by two bookcases. That was mostly it though. Lots and lots of windows, bookcases, and the bed and couch. There was a small kitchen and bathroom downstairs on the second floor, along with a laptop and a small t.v. Gil's suitcases with his belongings were still right by his makeshift bed. It was Saturday, Mathieu said that they'd pick him up and would go out to eat, maybe walk through town. But it was raining now. He just wanted to stay in here, maybe read a few books.  
There were familiar titles, such as The Count of Monte Cristo, The Hunchback of Noter-Dame, Le Miserables, and The Three Musketeers, but that was almost it. He thought he saw Phantom of the Opera before, but he wasn't sure. All the books were classic french literature, and were in french, as he found out after picking up a book, only to be greeted by a jumble of foreign words.  
"Screw this, I'll go to that Tony guy's place if they're open." Gil mumbles, getting out of bed.  
His hair was sticking up and out, in despret need to be brushed. He was only in boxers and a white shirt, he threw on some jeans and a black hoodie, but the cold still got to him. Maybe it would be warmer downstairs on the second floor. He opened the trap door and tried to steady the ladder that was propped up against the wall. That was the few things about the attic. The limited accessibility and the cold. He makes it down safely somehow and walks around the small three story shop.  
The second level was warmer, thankfully, and the fridge was stocked with food. There was lots of cheese, and three bottles of various wines, along with other foods, and spices in the cabinets. There were some boxes of pasta, and a few loaves of bread. Utensils, cups and dishes, a table and a stove, oven, some counter space, and toaster oven. The whole room was rather small, and half of the free space was taken by the ladder. That was something they could fix though.  
He walks through the second floor, which was mainly two rooms, the kitchen, then another loft like room, which housed a couch, a coffee table, a laptop, and t.v and the stairs leading down to the shop. There was a rack, holding coats and such. He grabs his black peacock coat, and tried to put it on when he realises that it's harder to button with the hoobie on. He sighs and throws it back on the couch.  
"Fuck it." He thinks and walks downstairs, and across the room, by displays of flowers and adds and photographs on the wall. He pushes the small doors apart, to be greeted by rain.  
The streets weren't very busy, people in rain coats raced on their bicycles, a few holding umbrellas abouve them, walking down the sidewalk. A few shops were closed, it was midday, but the cafe remained open. Gil sighs, nervously and shoves open the door. The smell of freshly baked goods hit his nose. There wasn't anyone in the cafe surprisingly.  
"Si, si, I know... I'll pay you tomorrow, I promise!Si... yeah...oh dios mio senor." Tony walks in, his teeth clenched, his hand dangerously tightening around the black and silver iPhone. He leans on the counter, flashing a smile to Gil, putting up a finger. Gil nods and Tony stands up again, walking in circles.  
"Ned, I have a customer... SI, my food is so good people are actually willing to eat it! Adios!" Tony yanks the phone away and cancels the call. He holds his face, muttering spanish words here and there, and at one point maybe even crying.  
"Ah, are you okay?" Gil quietly asks. Tony looks up, surprised, forgetting that he was there.  
"Si, the landlord is just, getting after me, for paying rent and all." He gives out a low sad chuckle. "For a moment, I forgot that you were there, the next, you were so quiet I thought you were Mathieu."  
"Well, I didn't want to say anything, since you were, uh, busy." Gil explains, gesturing to the phone. Tony nods, biting the inside of his check. He stands up suddenly, giving a sigh, and walking over to the back of the cash register.  
"Enough about me, why are you so, wet." He points out the fact that Gil was dripping from the rain from outside. Gil shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair, trying to dry himself.  
"It's from outside." He explains. Tony walks up behind him and quickly shoos him to the back.  
"You'll get sick if you don't change, here, I have some clothes." He gently pushes him through the door. The room was just a kitchen. It was huge, but looked like it belong to a house, like the kitchen at the flower shop. There was a odd metal spiral staircase at the right in the corner, which somewhat stood out of place. We walk up it, it must have made 5 whole complete circles. It led into a landing loft thing, I still have no idea what it was called. There was a couch and a coffee table, a few shelves with photos and such on. A t.v stood on a cabinet like thing. Damn, I'm awful at describing things. The t.v was turned on to a football match, the players and announcers shouting in italian. Romano was spread out on the couch, a magazine laying on his chest.  
"Lovi, Gil's here." Tony announces. Romano turns down the volume a bit.  
"That's great." He says, the sentence full of sarcasm. Gil frowns. Was he like this with everyone, or did he legit hate him? As if reading his mind, Tony laughs, running his hand through his hair.  
"He's always like that, don't take it personally, here, my room is to the left, first door, I have some clothes in the dresser, go ahead and pick something out." He explains, gesturing to the room.  
"A-are you sure it's okay, to just pick out anything like that?"Gil asks, uncertainly. Tony laughs and nods, while Romano turns around to look at him.  
"Just hurry up before you stain the wood flooring, idiota." Romano hisses and stares back at the t.v. Gil immediately walks over to the room. No, he didn't want to be on Romano's bad side. He couldn't be on anyone's bad side.


	3. Chapter 3

I walk into his room, closing the door quietly behind me. The room seemed to be nice and neat. It was a bit small, a bed to the left, and a small closet to the right, a decent sized window across from me, and a loveseat in front of the bed, facing a desk with a phone and computer on the other side by the closet. It looked honestly, like a college dorm room a bit. There was a flag of Spain hung on the wall, and the room seemed to have a red theme. There was a spanish guitar leaning on the bed and a futball over by the desk by a trashcan. I look in the closet. There were a few dress shirts hanging, and everything else folded and in stacks. A small dresser was somehow stuffed in there, holding a mirror, a few combs and hair gel, and I was guessing stuff like hoodies, underwear, socks and etc. Over all, the room was rather neat.  
The windowsill had a few plants on it. I can't resist but to walk over and look at them. There were multiple kinds. There were a few patches of orangish yellow flowers, that reminded me of Elizaveta. I silently pick one, smelling the sweet perfume like scent. I stare outside a bit dazed. There was still rain coming down. He really did have a nicer view than the flower shop. We were in between two buildings, windows displaying nothing much but another brick wall and more windows, showing in on other's lives.  
"Gil, you almost done?" Tony shouts, knocking. I trip a little, falling on the floor, using the corner of the bed to save me a bit. His futball lands right in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me a bit.  
"J-ja, just a second." I hold back tears. As unawesome as it sounded, I was fighting to not cry from the pain I was feeling at that moment. I stand back up, careful to not knock anything down. I quickly strip down to my jeans. My jeans were fine, I just needed a new shirt. I pick up a long sleeved red v neck one from the top of a stack and quickly pull it over my head. I discard the hoodie and shoes and stuff the flower in my pocket. maybe I could give it to her someday.

Tony's p.o.v

I stand outside, listening. He just fell which was why I asked if he was okay. What was he doing in there? Ai, I didn't really mind at all, I just didn't want him to hurt himself. Mathieu was right. He was rather, ah, how would I say this, cute? No, that didn't quite match him. Hot? No. He wasn't ugly either, he was rather attractive. I was just running out of adjectives. Eh, it didn't matter, I had my Roma to take care of. I glance at the small burn on my backhand I got last week. I was flirting with him and he shoved me when I was cooking causing me to burn myself. I deserved it I guess. I let out a chuckle when the door opens. He was wearing my freshly washed long sleeved red shirt. I was surprised he picked that one, but, it looked good on him. It was a bit small on him, hugging his muscles a bit. Not like that hurted anything. The red brought out the red in his eyes... his eyes... his eyes were... red!  
I cup his face, pulling it closer to me, trying to look at them clearly. Those were just contacts right? I knew it was possible, for someone to often have very light pale skin and silver hair, and violet blue eyes, but red, that was also possible, caused by the vessels in your eyes to break, I think, but for them to both be there on one person, at once, he was a true albino. I couldn't believe I didn't notice that before.  
"Uh, my eyes, their uhm, red, as you can see... It's a birth defect I think, something about genes and DNA and shit..." He trails off, blushing looking the other way. I blush, letting go of his face not realizing how close I was to him. Damn it.  
"Ah, sorry, I just never noticed that before. I sorta assumed that you have purplish blue like Mathiew." Or Ivan, to come to think about it. His face is plastered with confusion.  
"Really? That's normally the first thing people notice. They joke that I'm a demon of some sort and laugh, or scream that I'm a demon and run away screaming." He lets out a chuckle. I immediately feel sad, wondering how more many people joked about it rather than ran away. Very few, I'd imagine.  
"That's sad, they're really pretty, actually, if you look close at them." I smile. Ah, I was starting to flirt, gah, no, bad Tony, stop flirting with the newcomer, that was the number one way to make them not want to come back ever again. I guess it was okay, only a little, it was common around here, in fact, half the things I'd normally have said by now would freak a foreigner out. Damn label of being the 'country of passion,' Ah, that was it, and that was all it was, passion, mutual, friendship like passion. I couldn't 'like' him not all ready. He was just good looking. Si, good looking, and I was able to admit that. To admit that a attractive good looking guy was standing in front of me right now, wearing my clothes. And I only had mutual feelings for him. Nothing more.


End file.
